


Bring Him Home

by Justletmein



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Fixed-it, Happy Family, Maybe - Freeform, No Lazlo, No trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justletmein/pseuds/Justletmein
Summary: He's like the son I might have knownIf God had granted me a son.The summers dieOne by oneHow soon they flyOn and onAnd I am oldAnd will be gone.





	Bring Him Home

It was a cold night, but the city was still incredibly active and the children, the children who should be in their beds sleeping, roamed the streets. He didn’t know their names, he couldn’t even fancy learning them all, yet there he was, again looking for that same boy.  
“What are you doing out in the streets?” He asked, unable to believe that with a murderer on the loose, the boy was so careless.  
“The cops threw us out. Where else we got to go?” Was Joseph’s simple answer.  
“You find a room in a rescue society. And if they don’t take you, you go to a boarding house.” He said as he started looking for his wallet. Of course, the boy couldn’t afford anything else. “Here. There’s enough money there. If you need any more, you just ask. I don’t want you working or living on the street. Understand?” He sighed. But then again, how could the boy find him? “You know what? You are coming with me.”  
“You told me the killer promised to take his victims away to live with him.”  
“You think I’m the killer?” Though a little offended, he kind of felt proud that Joseph wasn’t that naïve. The boy chuckled.  
“Yes, no offense Mr. Moore, but there’s more chance of pigs flying.” Now it was his turn to chuckle.  
“I’m serious though.” The boy looked at him in disbelief, and then he just knew how hard it was for him. How many times adults like him had probably disappointed him before. “What do you say?” He asked, offering his hand.  
He looked at his hand suspiciously and then looked up to him. Even though he tried to hide it, John knew he was scared.  
“Don’t worry, I’m sure my grandmother will be happy with anything I do that keeps me from drinking.”  
He knew people would talk, that some might even be aware of Joseph’s past, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. He will find a way to adopt the child and raise him as his own. No more sleeping and working on the streets for Joseph and no more sleepless nights worrying he might be the killer’s next victim.  
Still with a little of hesitation, Joseph accepted.  
“Is there something wrong?” He asked, noticing how Joseph was suddenly quiet on their ride on the carriage back to their home. He had a thoughtful expression on his face and John began to wonder if he was having second thoughts.  
“It’s just. A friend of mine met someone who promised to take him away to live with him.”  
“What of his face?”  
“He didn’t say there was anything wrong with his face. I asked.”  
“Well, the man we’re looking for may not be a client. He might have a job that allows him to get close to you boys and win your trust. A charity worker, for example…”  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust those sons of bitches as far as I could kick ‘em. They just pretend to care so they can cop a feel.” Of course he didn’t.  
“A preacher then, or-- or a medical worker? Did Fatima ever mention to you what his saint did for a living?” Joseph just shook his head. “Can you think of any reason why he would’ve trusted him?”  
“All he said was the man was nothing like his father, that he hated his father more than anything in the world.”  
“And what do you feel about your father?” He asked, suddenly curious.  
“That depends Mr. Moore.” He said after thinking for a moment, as the carriage stopped and the door was opened. “What should I call you?”  
And suddenly everything made sense. He remembered how he often joked about it with Julia and how it was when she left that he thought she took that dream away with her. But that couldn’t be more wrong, it was still his dream and it was up to him to make it happen.  
“Well, I guess calling me Mr. Moore makes me sound old…” Joseph chuckled.  
“But you are old.” He should be offended, and he kind of was, but the little smile on the boy’s face made it worth it. He could make an exception .  
“Is that your way to refer to your father?” He asked smiling while Joseph laughed, a real full laugh that made him sure that this had been the right choice all along.

And that way, Joseph was never traumatized by being almost killed and was never left under the doubtful carings of Dr. Kreizler.

The end.


End file.
